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Then I heard it. "Move," I told Laura. "The we have to go now."
Cathie darted up through the ceiling.
"What?" Laura asked.
I started to rip through the tape with a couple tugs, tricky because I didn't want to hurt Mrs. Scoman.
"The garage door just went up," I said shortly.
Cathie swooped back into the basement. "He's back! And boy, he is freaked out. Keeps muttering
about the damn foster kids, whatever that's supposed to mean."
"Hurry," Mrs. Scoman whispered.
"Please don't throw up on me. If I do it any faster or harder, I could break all the bones in your hands."
"I don't care! Do my feet!Break my feet! Cut them off if you have to, justget me out of here !"
"Carrie? Do you have friends downstairs, Carrie?"
"Oh, great," I mumbled. "The predictably creepy killer has arrived."
Cathie pointed at the man I couldn't see him because we were as much under the stairs as beside
them walking down the stairs. "Time's up, motherfucker," was how she greeted him, and damn, I liked
the woman's style.
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"Why did no one think to bring a knife?" Laura asked the air.
"Because we're the hotshit vampire queen and devil's daughter, and we don't need knives. Unless, of
course, the bad guy ties up his victims withtape . Then we're screwed." Ah! I finally got her feet free and
went to work on her hands. Because she would have had to run past the killer to escape, I shoved her
back down when she tried to scramble to her feet. "It's okay," I told her. "We've got it covered. We
really are the hotshit never mind. I'll have this off in another minute."
The killer turned and came into the basement. Saw us. (Well, most of us& not Cathie.) Looked startled,
then quickly recovered. "Carrie, I told you, no friends over on a school night."
"My name isn't Carrie," Mrs. Scoman whispered. She wouldn't look at the killer.
Cathie stepped into his chest and stood inside him. "Asshole. Jerkoff. Tyrant. Fuckwad," she informed
him from inside his own head. "Loser. Virgin. Dimwit. Ass-hat. God, what I wouldn't give to be
corporeal right now!"
"It's overrated," I mumbled.
"I can't believe this loser'sface was the last thing I saw."
"You aren't the foster kids," the psycho nutjob killer said, looking puzzled. "I thought the kids at the end
of the block broke my window again."
"Score," I said under my breath, tugging away. "What did I say? Huh?"
"Yeah, you actually had a good idea," Cathie snarked. "And we're not calling the police right this second
why again?"
"Why did you kill those women?" Laura asked, the way you'd ask someone why they picked a red car
over a blue one. "Why did you steal Mrs. Scoman?"
"Because they're mine," he explained, the way you'd explain about owning a shirt. Everyone was being
all calm and civilized, and it was freaking me the hell out. I could smell trouble. Not a huge talent, given
the circumstances, but it was still making me twitchy as a cat in heat. "They're all mine. Carrie forgot, so I
have to keep reminding her."
"Psycho!" I coughed into my fist.
"Did you really," Laura began, and then had to try again, "did you really strangle them until they pooped,
and then make fun of them after you stole their clothes?"
"Laura, he's crazy. You're not going to get a straight answer. Look at him!"
Unfortunately, looking at him didn't help: he looked like a lawyer on casual Fridays. Nice, clean blue
work shirt. Khakis. Penny loafers. Not at all like the slobbering nutjob he obviously was.
Then he fucked himself forever by saying, "It sucks when you get the bra off and find out they don't have
a decent rack. I don't mind them lying about that other stuff, but tell the truth about your tits, that's what
my dad used to say. Otherwise, it's like lying."
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Then, of course, he was dead, because Laura leaned down, picked up a chunk of wood off the pile, and
broke his head in half. I screamed. Mrs. Scoman screamed. Even Cathie screamed, but I think she was
happy. I wasn't. I was in Hell. I think Mrs. Scoman thought so, too.
Chapter 38
I used my vampire mojo to convince Mrs. Scoman she had escaped and had no idea why the killer was
dead, or who had killed him. I reminded her to tell Nick and the task force the killer's address. We
thought she'd make out okay& none of the killer's blood was on her. It was all over Laura.
"Okay," I said on the way home. "I'm a little concerned."
"I lost my temper," Laura said, looking out the window. "I'll be the first to admit it."
"Freak!" Cathie sang from the backseat.
"That's another thing," I snapped, glaring into the rearview mirror. "You're supposed to disappear and be [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]